Story:Kings of Strife/Part 37
Part Thirty-Seven He opened the to door to her personal chamber, the only room that the staircase behind her throne led to, and found her inside. “I didn’t expect that you’d actually be here,” the Crimson Death mumbled. “I was beginning to think the workers had forgotten to give you a bed.” “Did you know that I haven’t slept in here? Not once.” Vainia Sestrum stood on her the sill of her gigantic window wearing only panties and a ragged t-shirt, and her brown hair was pulled into a bun atop her head. She did not move, and the dark cityscape of Shorekeep stretched out before her. Gin Taoris – known as Constantus Veit in these halls - walked into the room and closed the door behind him. “You’re entirely too free around me.” He tilted his head and looked down at his self-proclaimed queen. “I can’t understand you sometimes.” Vainia had no answer. She seemed thoroughly enticed by the unmoving yet lit up world in front of her. “All that I look upon is mine,” she whispered. “This city. The world. All mine.” “Not just yet,” the Crimson Death stated. He crossed his arms and started to pace around the room. “I heard of your plan from Tasshon. It is… bold.” “You disapprove.” “It will be a glorious battle. I am not qualified to speak of anything but war.” “And this is war. Are you not pleased?” Vainia turned her head slightly towards the Crimson Death, her Knight. He chose his words carefully. “What pleases me may not be what is right for you… My Queen. What excites a savage exile should not be the same hobbies for a ruler of all the world.” “I have not exiled you, Veit. To whom else could you call your banner states?” “Still bothering with such a disguise even in the most private of areas?” The man in the red cloak smiled humorlessly. “I’m afraid my home doesn’t exist anymore.” Vainia turned back towards the city. She did not speak for a long while. “I miss it sometimes. Zeta, I mean. I hated it while I was there and I hate it now, but the Academy was… Different. It was not a home, but it was a sanctuary. A temple for knowledge, isolation, and self-improvement. It was what I needed.” The Knight looked down. “Do you want me to apologize?” “No.” Vainia shook her head. “I had to leave when I did, else I wouldn’t have taken hold of all the opportunities I did. I hold no ill will towards you, Sir Constantus.” “I am not a knight,” Veit stated as he ran his hands through his messy mane of hair. “Not truly. I have done nothing noble.” “You saved my life. More than once. If that isn’t noble enough to have my honor, I don’t know what is.” Vainia got nothing in response. She sighed and knelt down into a squat, still balancing on the window sill, and allowed her forehead to lean on the strong glass overlooking the city. “I wonder, often… What did I do to change you? Why me?” “…I’m sorry?” “Come now, you don’t have anything to hide from me. I’ve seen what you do to people. I remember you killed that annoying boy back in Zeta.” Turo was his name, right? Vainia didn’t even remember. It all felt so long ago. “You enjoyed when we saw that bloodbath in Phenicks. Hell, you’ve been borderline torturing everyone who wants to be a soldier beneath my name. I know what kind of depravities make your blood boil… So why leave all that behind? What was it about me that made you return to your human side?” She was honestly curious. Many a night would have went sleepless – if she had the time to sleep in the first place – as she thought of the issue. What had Taoris done or suffered to make him this way? What was it about her that suppressed his urges? Both of them had confessed to needing one another, but the connection had occurred so spontaneously that she often found herself looking back at past events in disbelief. The Crimson Death took a while to respond, and when he did speak, his voice was hoarse and cracked, as if speaking came difficult to him now. “You remind me of someone I once had. I’ve long since lost her, and I have no hope of gaining her back. It’s impossible. Everytime I see that twinkle in your eyes…” He stopped speaking, and Vainia turned back to look at her Knight. He had turned away from her, but his back shook and his biceps visibly flexed. She could see his pain. Vainia stood up and started towards him with concern, her bare feet quietly padding on the black seastone floor. Veit flinched at hearing her and backed away towards the door. “Please,” the Knight said with a broken tone. “Don’t ask me anymore of who I am or what I do. I do all for you. I always will. That is my love. Do not return it. Just take it.” The queen stopped walking, her mind racing with indecision. She hugged her arms around herself and looked down. This, like every other time Veit broke down, was not a situation she could predict or wit herself out of. This inadequateness irritated her, but being angry at herself wasn’t going to solve anything. She turned, a cold scowl back on her face. If anything else, she could be his queen. “Why is it that you have visited me this night?” she demanded of him simply. The Knight did not turn back to face her, but instead removed an item from his waist satchel and tossed it to her bed. She looked at it, but did not move. “I bring you a gift,” Veit said, “I found it on the broken shards of the damaged harbor. Where the riots took place. It was in a chest inside a sinking ship, hidden. It has a power I recognize.” “An artifact?” “A weapon.” Vainia twirled a stray curl coming from atop her ear before yawning. “I will succeed in Icarun without it, though your efforts are appreciated. I thank you, my Knight. Rest well this night, for I have further business for you.” Now Veit whirled, staring at her with his big blue eyes red and puffy. Besides that, he was unaffected; if anything, his voice seemed to contort in rage. “Will I not be accompanying you to your battle?!” The queen looked up at him with a tilted head. “Aren’t you the one who dislikes repeating himself?” “No! You can’t do this, not again!” He stepped towards her, his big vein-covered hands curling into tight fists. “I have endured this twice, and two times too many. I will not be left behind a third time!” Vainia’s eyebrow twitched, and she crossed her arms. “Are you presuming to give me orders?” “Cut the noble bullshit out and listen to me!” Veins began to protrude from his neck. “He’ll be there. I know he will. I sense it. I need this battle. And you need me. Tasshon is still just an apprentice, and a mere child! He is not mighty enough to protect you from all harm!” “There is no other who is as useful as you are to my cause. No other has been as instrumental to it,” Vainia muttered as she coldly turned and started walking back towards the window. This was proceeding as planned. She could not comfort him, she could not embrace him, and she could not love him… But she could enrage him. She could give him a purpose, a way to let out his energy and emotions. He might end up hating her, resenting her even, but he would not leave or pursue her. Perhaps that was for the better. “Even saying that, you would leave me behind? You would even send me off somewhere, away from where I am needed?!” A laugh fell from Vainia’s lips, a laugh that danced through the window that the young queen now stood in front of once again and a laugh that teased onto the wind that blew through nighttime Shorekeep. She did not smile and she felt no joy, but she laughed. “Do you know what I love the most in the world, Taoris? What I adore?” Only silent seething was her answer. She continued. “It is how unexpendable you think you are to me.” The Crimson Death’s face fell. His fists melted into open hands. If it were anyone else, he would have never found enough ways to torture them sufficiently. But this was the one person he could not kill. The one person who reminded him of what he had done, who he had loved, and what he had been through. “You will go to Honris on the morrow and speak to its highest level of government. You will tell them that I demand their absolute allegiance and cooperation with any and all my demands. If they deny me, you have free reign to exercise all of your urges upon them.” She removed the pins holding her bun in place and allowed her brown hair to melt onto her shoulders. “Do you understand?” Constantus Veit nodded, as if she could see, and turned. “For the Queen’s glory,” he said with defeat in his voice, and left the Queen’s chambers. Vainia laughed once again – without a hint of joy. ***** She hadn’t dreamt since she awoke beneath the Serpent of Blood, not since this last nap in the brush. This nap brought with it no end to her exhaustion, and visions of a naked girl with wide red eyes. The Chosen Knight stood from her nest with a ragged yawn. Sleep had come to her with difficulty for the past few days. She always saw him when she closed her eyes, and her body shook with fear. That’s what the feeling was, she knew, and there would be no denying it any longer. She was afraid of the power that had almost killed her in the forests, afraid of the abilities that a first cycle human had stolen from the rightful Knights. How despicable. She started to move again, and the Inusian landscape began to make her mood more amicable. Her only memories with the Leader and her fellow Knights were in dark chambers and misty ruins, a foreign country destroyed and covered in skeletons. It had not bred any of them with bright mannerisms. It was to her relief, then, that the outside world was so… different. There were colors everywhere, and never any silence. Something was always buzzing, always moving or calling out to the world. The Chosen Knight looked to her right, and far off into the horizon she could see the outline of the sea. Far to her left was the East, and with it the Mirage Desert (although she could not see this from where she stood). The grassy plains that had extended beyond the northern forests were beginning to thin out, and far in front of her she could see the rocky plains of Midwestern Inusia forming as the levels of grass slowly lessened. It was odd – she wore a crown about her head and fashioned herself a queen, but she had never seen much of the world that she claimed to have power over. Had any of them? The Leader was very controlling over both his Knights and his Scales, and complete independence could only be achieved after proving to be satisfactory to his expectations. The Chosen Knight and the Lance Knight both had spent years working for that standard, she remembered. They had spent years doing everything together. What happened? Why didn’t the Leader or anyone else tell her? Couldn’t they just dismiss those words that Silverius spoke of immediately? Her memories became hazy a few months before her disappearance. What had happened? Why was this so, and why couldn’t anyone tell her? Would she never find the truth? The Chosen Knight realized that she had been standing in the same spot, admiring a stash of brush and creek water for minutes now, lost in thought. She frowned and shook her head lightly, disturbing her black and violet hair. She turned back to the south and started to walk again. There was no time for distractions. Before long she came through a thin forest on the edge of the plains, and found that she was not alone in the trees. Her red eyes turned golden orange as she activated her Eyes of the Tyrant. The Chosen stopped walking, allowing her dark olive cloak to billow and cover her body, and she turned her head slightly towards the disturbance in nature. “A Scale?” she probed. “Or a Najash?” A male in an identical dark green cloak stepped forward, his hood hiding all but the bright gold light shining from his eyes. A Scale, then. Scales were simple grunt warriors of Ouroboros initiated past the stage of basic mercenary work and overseen by the Leader himself, but could only have bright Eyes of the Tyrant when he took direct control over them and could see through their eyes. The Knight found her frown deepening. Did the Leader not trust her to go about her mission at all? Granted, she had failed in Empiria, but all the same… “Failure seems to be contagious lately,” the Scale said without moving an inch. “I suspect my Knights will all require recycling soon.” Recycling. That was the vague term the Leader used for the replacement of a Serpent Knight for another, reinstating their identity with new power and vigorous youth. Only the strong survive, and the Leader wanted to create a world where this was the law. The Chosen looked down and frowned. For some reason, the Leader’s threats were annoying her instead of striking fear in her heart. He had always been a figure to fear and respect, but now… This rebellious feeling in her heart was terrifying on its own. “I will relieve your disappointment, Master. I loom close to the fortress that is mine to take. I will sit upon its battlements and watch our enemies burn.” “Just as you slaughtered the wielder of Wind?” The Chosen’s brow twitched. “So you know.” “I see all,” growled the Scale as he stepped forward. “It proves to be a curse when I must watch my children fail me over and over again. This is now four times I have been let down. Where are the promises of success I received from your brother when he revived you? Have I failed in bringing you up as a Serpent Child of my own?” Now the Leader’s words stung. “No, my Lord. Please… Forgive me.” “I have enough forgiveness for all the world and its people, child. I cannot spare what I do not have to give.” The Knight turned and looked to her Master with a pleading expression, and both of their eyes shined golden with the magic of the Tyrant. “Please, my Lord. I am reborn. I will not fail you again.” “You are correct, child.” The Scale growled deeply and took a moment to stare at the Knight in deep thought. The gaze unnerved her, as any look from the Leader of Ouroboros deserved. Finally the Leader spoke again through the body of the Scale. “You will not fail me again, because you will return to me and be guided in person.” What?! “My Lord! I… I was going to the fortress! Both the runic child, the wielder of Flame, and the wielder of Wind comes close to it! You said it yourself!” “The truth in my words have not changed, child. You have. The Lance flies here to aid you, but I will have her take on the operation on her own. She will not fail me.” The Chosen Knight’s hands curled into tight fists and her face tightened into a rage-filled grimace. She wanted above all else to command this lowly Scale to kneel before her, to summon her Tyrantblade and use it to easily lop off this foolish vessel’s head. Only by bathing in its blood and ignoring this sleight to her power could her pride be rekindled. She had lost memories, not power, and many a year ago she had proved herself mightier than even the Lance Knight. Nothing in two months of absence could have changed that. But she could not rage against her Leader, nor say even a word of treason to him. The Leader was the Tyrant, and his Eyes were absolute. His powers were absolute. He was absolute. “My Lord…” was all the Knight managed to eke out through her gritted teeth. “You wound me.” All she could see was red, and chains around her arms and arrows through every orifice of this Scale’s body, so she willed her Eyes of the Tyrant to deactivate and her normal vision to return. She looked down, allowing her anger to flow through her pores and out into the world. “Do not disappoint me again,” the Scale stated as he slowly closed his eyes. “Or your rebirth will go to rest.” When the Scale opened his eyes again, they were a normal dark brown. He lowered his hood, revealing a mop of messy black hair and eyes with no eyebrows. “My Knight!” yelped the Scale, now in a much higher pitched voice, as he knelt before the Chosen Knight and bowed his head. “I hope the Leader’s message reached you without compromise.” “Yes,” the Chosen stated with a hint of defeat and a dash of anger. “I understood what he was saying just fine. Stand, Scale, and answer me.” The Leader’s henchman jumped to his feet and looked to her with plain expectant eyes. “How far behind you is the Lance Knight?” “I left hours before her,” the Scale said. He looked towards the sky in thought; the Chosen Knight followed his gaze, and found that the sky was a beautiful mix of blue and purple. The sun was in the air still, but clouds and an oncoming sunset painted the air with bold, breathtaking colors. The Knight tore her eyes away momentarily and found it odd that the Scale shared none of her wonder for the atmosphere. “But she flies towards her goal with haste. It will not be long before she arrives here, my Knight.” The Chosen Knight nodded and crossed her arms. “And the Blood Knight? Do you know his location?” “Yes, my Knight! He is in the south, near the mountains. He lingers near the Leader, but is not with him.” ‘Close, but disconnected. This will work,’ the Chosen Knight stated to herself. She looked at the sky one last time and deepened her frown, resolve quickly filling the angry void in her heart. The confrontation with Silverius would have to wait, but her answers would not be delayed. “Come with me to the Leader,” the Chosen Knight commanded, “and afterwards I would have you lead me to the Knight of Blood. I have business with him.” “Very well.” The Scale nodded and started off to the south. The Chosen Knight followed him without delay. Not even the beautiful world around her could bring her mood up any longer, she found. ***** “Wait, my name? You’re asking me?” “Yes. Was that not clear?” Vik crossed his arms and frowned slightly. The man in front of him, Razmid Arensten, changed his expression from a look of surprise to one of pride. “It’s Lord Arensten, Baron of Treasury, of course! Hah, please come in! I feel we have much to discuss.” Razmid turned slightly, moving from out of the doorframe to his room in the Black Castle, and held his hand out to Vik’s direction. Before Vik could move at all, a short woman clothed in only a towel ran out the room and down the hallway, making sure to nod at Razmid and Vik in turn as she fled. Vik looked after the girl – who had more than a passing resemblance to Lady Vainia, probably on purpose - with a morose expression before slightly shaking his head and stepping inside Razmid’s chamber. The room was of similar size to Jütenas’, but was furnished much more comfortably, and thin violet curtains over the windows kept the room bathed in a sensual light. The tall soldier crossed his eyes and held his lips tightly pursed. “I don’t really have much to talk about. I just wanted to know your name.” Razmid turned from his spot near the bar installed in his room. In his hands were two cocktail glasses halfway filled with alcohol, and a large bottle on the bar showed intentions to continue filling them. “What?! I don’t believe that! Surely our Baron of Foreign Affairs sends you with a message!” Vik’s frown deepened. Was this the dark-skinned man’s way of saying something about Jütenas? “No, that’s not it.” “Of course! You just wanted to get close to Lord Arensten, Baron of Treasury. You wouldn’t be the first one, trust me!” It was becoming more and more clear that Baron Razmid would only continue using his full title. He turned and handed Vik his drink. The soldier only looked down at the drink and raised his eyebrows at Razmid. “No. I just wanted to get to know everyone important around here before the ships leave tonight.” Vik looked out the window. It was hard to see past the curtains, but the room was bright and the sun was still visible in the air. “You’re drunk and its not even sunset? Are you even old enough to drink?” Razmid stuttered for a second and looked down. He was wearing the new Baron uniform, but his jacket was unbuttoned and he wore no shirt beneath it. “There is never a wrong time to celebrate Vainia’s glory. Neither she nor Baron Sabine have yet established clear laws for drinking ages, so… Haha…” Vik shook his head again and drank his glass’ worth of liquor. “I just didn’t know you to be the party animal. Not like this.” Apparently sobered up some, Razmid smiled and laid down his drink at the bar. “I do enjoy my festivities. I had nothing like this back home, or even at Zeta. It was always work… So much work.” He flashed his teeth in a charming smile at Vik. “I’m sure you definitely didn’t come to be bored about where I came from, though. Don’t worry, Ambassador! I do my job quite well! A pretty woman and a drink just helps me focus on the numbers more. Perspective and all.” True to his word, Razmid waved towards a large desk in the corner of his room, upon which stacks of paper, scrawled-on ledgers, and multiple calculators sat. Vik cringed at the image and nodded. He never did like mathematics, although he had a certain talent for it. “I believe you, Baron Arensten. I should get going to see the others. Thank you for your time.” “Lord Arensten, Baron of Treasury! Don’t forget Lord, that’s the coolest part! You stay safe out there, alright Ambassador? I heard Jütenas has quite the thing for you!” He had half his body out the door when he heard this part. “Who told you that?” Vik and Jütenas had made sure not to tell anyone of their endeavors, especially Vainia or the other Barons. It was better for them to appear professional, and would definitely make things easier for the two. If the news had leaked, though… “Baron Casvaal. Duh.” Vik went to visit Kamanus Casvaal next. There was little he knew about the youngest Baron, other than his knowledge of apparently everything beneath Vainia’s banners, but Vik would make sure he learned something. He found the Baron in the hallway before he even got to reach his chamber, and had to awkwardly reach out to the boy to speak to him. “Baron Casvaal?” probed Vik. The boy had walked past him, and upon hearing his name he stopped and turned slightly. “May I help you, Ambassador Hyusei?” That was to be expected. Although Vik didn’t remember introducing himself personally, it was not absurd for the boy to have learned of who he was and what he had done before being assimilated by Vainia. “If you wish. All I want to know is your name and a bit about what you do around the castle. I’d like to know those I fight for tonight, if that’s alright with you?” The Baron of Intelligence nodded after a pause. “I guess. I’m busy, so it can’t take too long.” The Baron turned, his firey red ponytail floating through the air around him as he moved. “My name is Kamanus Casvaal. I am the Baron of Intelligence, and thus it is my duty to monitor all information entering and leaving this castle, city, and nation.” He frowned and a vein appeared on his forehead. “You’ll find its much more serious than any of the other Baron occupations. I was chosen for it specifically.” “And what exactly led Lady Vainia to choosing you for this position?” Kamanus’ brow darkened and he looked Vik in the eyes. “What exactly led her to choose you for yours?” Silence. “If we’re finished here, then, I have work to do and surely you have a Baron to get back to. I’m sure you’re not interested in the same relationship with myself. You’re much too old for me, Ambassador Hyusei.” Vik’s eyes widened and he looked around in surprise. “Shut your…! How do you know about that? And what do you mean…?!” The Baron of Intelligence finally let a smile grace him, and he laughed lightly. “I did say I know about everything here. There are eyes and ears in the shadows, Ambassador. I recommend you try much harder if you want to have anything private in this world.” “Listen, kid. I don’t want anything about that getting out to anyone else. You hear me?” Vik stepped up, using his height advantage of a few inches to attempt intimidating the thin Baron. Despite the truth to Kamanus’ words, Vik felt insulted… Exposed. Confused. The red-haired Baron only smirked and turned away. “Then don’t make yourself so obvious, fool.” He continued walking down the black corridor, and Vik did not follow. The soldier took a deep breath. It would be better for him not to attack a teenager. Still, to hear someone calling him a fool brought back memories. Bad memories. Vik bit his lip and continued walking the way he came. Next he came to the chambers of Baron Martessa di Sabine, the Baron of Governance. Truth be told, he knew least about this Baron than any other, and accepted the fact that he would be in this chamber longer than any other – except for Jütenas, of course. His knock rang unanswered. Vik knocked again, and again soon after, until he finally heard stirring behind the heavy wooden door. Momentarily the door opened and a disheveled blonde woman stood staring at him with squinted eyes. “Um, hello. I’m Vik Hyusei… Ambassador to Lady Vainia. Er, for the Queen’s glory. Am I… interrupting something?” He had felt no remorse for stopping Razmid’s sex and alcohol-fueled day, but Baron Sabine had clearly been sleeping, and perhaps breaking that slumber was out of line. The Baron thought otherwise. “No, no, you’re fine… Do you need something?” She leaned on the doorframe and rubbed her eyes. Unlike any of the other Barons, Martessa was not wearing her uniform, and was instead wearing a simple tank top and short skirt. Her large bust made the shirt appear scandalous, and shockingly, she sported sleeves of tattoos on her upper thighs and all of her arms. “I just…” Vik was at a loss for words. “I’d like to get to know you. It won’t take long. I’ve been going around speaking to all of the Barons before I leave with the ships tonight.” She nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Please, come in. Don’t let me stop you.” She moved from the door and walked inside, taking a seat at a table with two chairs inside the room. Vik followed slowly and closed the large door behind him. The room, like the Baron of Governance herself, was nothing like what Vik imagined. There was no bed, only two tables with two chairs each and a pillow in the corner farthest from the door. The tall windows were all boarded up, and stuffed yellow folders were somewhat neatly placed all along the floor. A small cooler lay on the corner opposite the pillow, and a small pile of folded clothes sat beside that. “Martessa,” the Baron said with a yawn. She startled Vik, who had been looking around the room, and when he looked at her the Baron waved a hand at the empty chair opposite hers. Vik sat. “Martessa di Sabine. That’s my name.” She looked up. “Do you not recognize it?” “What, your name?” Vik bit his lip slightly. “Can’t say that I do.” “That’s right, you’re a Nneonian. Obviously. Excuse me.” She rubbed her temples. “The di Sabine family is one of the most influential and wealthy ones of Inusia.” “…and you’re sworn in the service of a woman who would bring Inusia down?” Martessa appeared uncomfortable at this. “Sorry,” Vik mumbled. “I just can’t help thinking this whole thing is… odd. This whole nation. Thousands of soldiers, deserters, and worldwide supporters, all for a woman who came out of nowhere and is just good at speeches. I wonder if I’m missing something.” “True, she seems unassuming at first, but… It’s hard to explain. I have no real hatred towards my family. It’s the rest of the world that’s wrong. And sometimes you can’t make a cake without cracking a few eggs.” “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” Vik looked down and tore his eyes from Martessa’s body. She was very beautiful, to be sure, but it was hard to see her various black tattoos as anything but unfitting for her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question your loyalties and motivations.” “It’s quite alright. It was difficult for me to trust my fellow Barons, and truthfully I don’t still trust all of them…” She rolled her eyes. “But I do trust Lady Vainia, and that is all that matters. I know my queen will not lead me astray. For the Queen’s glory.” She raised a fist to her throat in salute. Vik halfheartedly did the same. “So, then, what exactly do you do as the Baron of Governance…?” Martessa sighed and rolled her head back. “Exhausting work, I assure you. Lady Vainia takes up much of the brunt of ruling, of course, but so much of her time goes towards strategies and expansion that I end up holding much of the responsibilities for day-to-day management. Creating laws, regulating businesses, overseeing meetings and making committees. It takes a lot to run a city, much less a country… It’s so much power. I didn’t think I was ready for this power.” The Baron was looking down with far-away eyes, and Vik had a feeling that he was seeing her in a rare moment of raw clarity. He tilted his head and looked at her, afraid that if he probed too far she would either shatter into mist like a dream or draw back into her natural shell. “You seem ready enough to me.” She smiled and pulled back her hair with a skinny hand. “I suppose. It’s nothing like balancing my family’s accounts and affairs, but I’ve managed.” Next she sat up, all weakness gone with one swallow. Martessa looked him over and noticed him staring. “What, do you want to spend the night in here next? Would Jütenas like that, I wonder? I’ll cut your fingers off if you try anything, sir.” Vik sputtered and cleared his throat. “No.” Great, another person who knew of his affairs. He wondered if the number of people who didn’t know was smaller than the number of people who did. “I was wondering where you got those tattoos from, and what purpose they serve.” “What purpose do any tattoos serve? What a question.” Martessa crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Vik looked at them and quickly looked down. “You know what I meant. If I’m intruding…” “Where did you get that scar from, over your eye?” She nodded at his scar, and Vik pursed his lips. “Tell me,” she prodded. “I was in a fight. Trying to protect someone I thought I could trust. I was wrong, and I paid the price for my mistake.” Martessa looked at him for a long while before speaking. “And will I pay a price for trusting you? Will that be a mistake?” “I don’t tell people’s private business, unlike another Baron.” With a clenched jaw, Vik struggled with his urge to spit on the floor of the chamber. Martessa laughed gracefully at this, but after a second her eyes lost all amusement and her face fell into a deep concentration. “I was… I’m not a trueborn di Sabine. You wouldn’t know that… Nobody does. My parents, Fviedrik and Granciel di Sabine… They are infertile. Sterile, both of them. What a curse it must be to hold millions of dolarov and hundreds of followers and not have an heir to pass it onto. They both call it a miracle that they found me when they did, and it only took them a few days to adopt me. It wasn’t hard to pass off that I was born and raised in “secret”. The world believed them. Only I and them knew the truth. “They raised me as if I was one of their own, and for that I will always be grateful. I don’t deserve their love, nor their riches, nor their schooling or their legacies. I was just a sewer rat, Gods… I was a whore. I don’t remember their names or their faces, but my real parents were just a part of a, a… an orgy tribe! I don’t even know the word for it. They sold their bodies to anyone, everyone. Even mine. Before I was even old enough, they cut me open and forced me to partake in things. And the tattoos were the mark of that. A whore might move on and get adopted by a rich family, but she’ll always be branded as a whore.” Vik’s eyebrows were raised and his mouth open. Nothing was said between the two of them for several seconds. “I know what you’re thinking,” Martessa said quietly. “What kind of rich Inusian tycoons adopt a whore’s child?” She shook her head. “Everyone in the Sovereign Cities knows what a whore’s tattoos look like. Er, those are Morshia and Empiria, if you didn’t know. Anyway, they surely wouldn’t have taken me if they hadn’t found me almost dead in the streets. A child with the di Sabine hair and eyes, completely by coincidence. I was bleeding between my legs and all over myself. I was trying to skin myself, can you believe that? These tattoos were so digusting to me. Now, I just learn to live with them and cover myself. Dresses and skirts are my favorites.” Vik bit his lip nervously. “And you just… open the door like that for everyone? Despite… Those?” Now Martessa gave a sly smile. “I was tired. Forgive me. No, I usually look first. And if anyone did see, I can cut a man’s fingers and eyes out faster than he can pull out his cock. You learn some things, working in the slums of Morshia.” “Right, right,” Vik replied with a degree of discomfort. He didn’t doubt her. “Do you ever struggle with this power you have?” Baron di Sabine didn’t seem to understand his question. “What, like it’s hard signing papers and listening to old Shorican men stare at me? I’m more callous than I look, I assure you.” “That’s not what I meant,” Vik chuckled. “Coming from such a background, rising to a powerful family, and now working directly under a woman who may or may not take hold of the entire world. She seeks to smash everything that’s always been and make whatever she wants… And you are part of what enables that. Surely that takes some… adjusting?” Martessa said nothing, but now Vik was curious. Now he was passionate. Now he wanted to know what went on in her head. The Ambassador stood, his wooden chair scraping on the black seastone floor and his scar starting to throb. “Will you be able to stand it, knowing you signed some of the treaties that will send ships and men off to war in just a few hours? That’s what she’s doing – she’s starting a war. I don’t know of Inusian whores and rich men, but I fought in the Nneonian Civil War. My father fought in it. I joined in its last year, and I only fought in two battles… but I fought. I killed people. That’s what Vainia does, just from a distance. She wants to kill all of Inusia and burn it all down. Could you do that? Could you let her kill the people who saved you? If she put a gun in your hand and told you to shoot your parents, for the Queen’s glory, could you pull the trigger?” Martessa looked out her boarded up windows and swallowed. “I think it’s time for you to leave, sir.” Vik stared at her for a moment before backing away and starting to her door. “Goodnight, Baron,” he said as he left. The door closed slowly behind him. The soldier sighed and rubbed his forehead. Why did he explode on her like that, when all she did was open up to him? She thought herself a fool, but continued to act in the way she thought right. Was that not similar to his own life? Could he with good faith condemn her for siding with someone he did not yet trust? Standing in the hallway thinking was getting him nowhere, Vik reasoned. The only way was forward, and the only other Barons he had left to talk with were Tasshon el Divrus and Jütenas Kinandorf. Reasoning that Tasshon would undoubtedly be on the battlefield tomorrow, and that their conversation would not be a pleasant one, Vik started to walk towards Jütenas’ chamber. After getting lost for a good bit of time, Vik finally arrived at Jütenas’ room without much obstacle. He knocked on the Baron of Foreign Affairs’ door before remembering that they had gifted him a key; without further delay he opened the door and went inside. He was surprised to find that pitch black darkness greeted him from Jütenas’ window, and the Baron of Foreign Affairs lay beneath the blankets of their large bed, fast asleep. Vik closed the door behind him and walked over to his lover, finding himself once again entranced by their odd beauty. There was something magical about Jütenas, something that defied explanation just as much as their appearance did. He knew who Jütenas Kinandorf was, but even though he was more intimate with them than any other, he still found himself in disbelief somehow. How was such a person possible? The word ‘angel’ was perhaps too mythical of praise to heap upon anyone, but he struggled to find any other word to describe the person asleep beneath the blankets in front of him. His rough hand caressed Jütenas’ cheek, and he looked down at them in wonder. How had this blossomed so quickly? How was he so lucky? A feeling deep within him was always anxious, troubled to think of how big a fool he was and how inevitable the end to their relationship was. Did they have that, even? A relationship? It had all happened so fast… Jütenas stirred finally, and turned his head towards Vik. She smiled at the Ambassador and blinked repeatedly. “I have to go soon,” Vik mumbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner.” “You’ll come back, won’t you?” Jütenas stated. Their voice was little more than a whisper, and Vik found himself swooning at how his heart fluttered. “Of course. I swear it. I will always return to you.” “Good,” Jütenas said with a yawn. “I’ll miss you.” “And I you,” Vik whispered in response. He looked in his lover’s eyes and ran his thumb on their lips. “I love you. So much.” Jütenas smiled and closed their eyes. “I made you something. There, by the lamp.” Vik pulled himself away and looked behind him. The lamp by the door was off, and hanging off its shade was a pool of light fabric. Vik walked over to it. The fabric was a scarf, light and ethereal in the sun as Jütenas’ hair was. It was well-knit, and warm. The soldier turned to look back at Jütenas, but the Baron was already fast asleep, and the night was dark behind them. Vik looked at his lover for a long moment, taking this moment in his mind and forcing himself to remember it, before wrapping the scarf around his neck and leaving the room quietly. ‘I will return,’ he said to himself and the darkness. ‘Always.’ ...End of Part Thirty-Seven. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page->